


The Allied Forces' Justice Society

by GayComicNerd



Category: Justice Society of America (Comics)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Comic, Comic Book Science, DC Comics References, Europe, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Male Character, Gay Pride, Gun Violence, Justice Society of America (DCU), M/M, Murder, Nazis, Slurs, Violence, War, World War II, World Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayComicNerd/pseuds/GayComicNerd
Summary: During the 1930's, there was a surge in people known as "Mystery Men", costumed crimefighters that fought for the greater good. When the Second World War broke out, Germany tried to make its own national Mystery Man that would fight for the Nazi forces. Unfortunately for the world, it succeeded, giving one man immeasurable strength, among other things. To combat this, the Allied Forces brought together a group of Mystery Men to form the Justice Society, and gave them the mission to defeat the man everyone was calling "Captain Nazi".
Relationships: Jay Garrick/Alan Scott
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Auschwitz

Auschwitz

25th August, 1944

1453 hours

Auschwitz was a cold and unforgiving place, but what more could be expected from the top concentration camp in all of Nazi-occupied Europe? There were only three sights to be seen at this marketplace of death: the stone walls and chain fences topped with barbed wire, the guards marching arounds with their guns held tight to their chests, and, of course, the ghastly appearances of the poor prisoners forced here by an evil regime.

But today? Today there was a fourth sight.

Today, a fancy black car rolled up to the gates of the camp. The guards barely even recognised what it was, as it was a hot day and they were already tired.

But as the car drove closer to them, they could see it. It was the car of a Nazi officer, and whoever this was had to be high in rank. Maybe it was a colonel, maybe even a general; or maybe, it was even the Führer himself.

This thought quickly awakened the guards, and they stood up, stiffer than a statue. As the car pulled up to the gates and stopped, the guards shot their hands up in the air in a salute. As they saw who came out of the car, they were relieved it wasn’t the Führer, but they still couldn’t rest.

The man that stepped out of the car was a Nazi Colonel by the name of Albrecht Krieger, and the rumours surrounding him were immeasurable. Some people said that he could move faster than a bullet; some said he could lift an entire train with one hand; some said he couldn’t be harmed; some said that he could shoot deadly lasers out of his eyes.

Regardless of what the truth was, it was clear that this man had a terrifying aura. He walked slowly towards the guards, and stopped in front of them. Everything about Krieger was somehow terrifying. Perhaps it was the way he always stood at attention; perhaps it was the unflinching scowl on his face; or perhaps it was the way that his gaze seemed to burn a hole directly into the depths of your soul.

“Where is the overseer of this camp?” Krieger asked the guards. The power in his voice was enough to make even the bravest soldier cower away in fear, and he had a mastery of the German language that even these guards, who had been speaking it all their lives, didn’t have. “Where is Herr Rudolf? I am to speak with him, now”

“He’s in his office, sir,” the guard on the left said. “Forgive us, but we didn’t know that you were supposed to be coming here today.”

“Of course you didn’t know,” Krieger shot back. “That’s the point of a surprise. You aren’t supposed to know anything about it.”

“Shall we take you to him?” the guard on the right asked.

“Of course,” Krieger replied. “At least one of you can interpret my wishes correctly. Take me to him, now.”

“Yes, sir,” both guards said, saluting even though Krieger didn’t salute back.

. . . . .

Krieger opened the door to the office of Auschwitz’s overseer, Rudolf Hoess, finding him in the middle of some paperwork.

“Who are you and why have you interrupted me?” Hoess asked, not even bothering to look up from his work.

“SS Colonel Albrecht Krieger,” Krieger answered.

Hoess looked up in shock. “Herr Colonel,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea we were expecting you.”

“As I already said to your guards, this was meant to be a surprise.”

“Of course, Herr Colonel. Where shall we start your inspection, then?”

“Herr Rudolf,” Krieger said with the kind of tone one might use to speak to a child, “when did I say I was here for an inspection?”

“My apologies, Herr Colonel,” Hoess said. “May I ask what you are here for then?”

“Of course you can. I’m here for a visit. I heard that an old friend of mine was captured and brought here, so I felt an obligation to come by and say hello.”

“What’s your friend’s name?” Hoess asked. “I can see if he was executed yet?”

“His name is Jakob Freidmann.”

Hoess grabbed some papers and started to look through them. “Of course, Herr Colonel,” he said as he did this. After about a minute of searching, Hoess found what he was looking for. “Herr Colonel you’re in luck, he’s not scheduled for execution until next week.”

“Excellent,” Krieger said with a smile. “Bring him in here.”

“Yes, Herr Colonel,” Hoess replied. He turned to a guard in the room. “Find Jakob Freidmann and bring him in here immediately,” he said to the guard.

The guard nodded and left the room as quickly as he could.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Herr Colonel?” Hoess politely asked.

“No thank you,” Krieger responded. “I won’t be here long.”

“Of course, Herr Colonel.”

The two men waited for almost twenty minutes, before the door finally opened up. In through the door stepped the guard, and a much more miserable man.

The miserable man was clad in the grey, squalid clothes befitting a prisoner at Auschwitz. On this man’s left breast, there were two patches sewn on to his shirt; one was an inverted black triangle, while the other was a yellow triangle. Together, these patches formed a symbol that looked almost like the Star of David. The man’s entire body, from head to toe, seemed to have been bathed in dirt. He was extraordinarily skinny, as if all the fat had been melted off his body by some unknown force. His face was stuck in a permanent frown, but it was different than Krieger’s frown. This man’s frown seemed forced on to him by an outside force that stole all his happiness away, while Krieger’s could be attributed to his own internal anger.

“Hallo, Jakob,” Krieger said to the man.

“Hallo,” Jakob replied, his voice shaking harder than an earthquake from fear.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“No.”

“You are here, Jakob, because I have memories of you; fond memories. Do you have any memories of me?”

“No.”

“We were childhood friends, Jakob. We played together in the schoolyard, day after day. You’re telling me you don’t remember that?”

Jakob was a little less new nervous now, hoping that this man would save him from this camp. But he still had to go with the honest answer of “No.”

“How disappointing,” Krieger said. “I was really hoping you would have remembered me, it would have made this whole encounter much more heartfelt.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Are you apologising for something of my own fault, Jakob?”

“I-I…g-guess so, sir.”

“That’s not what you should be apologising for.”

“What should I be apologising for?”

“Betraying your country, Jakob. Betraying your country.”

“I’ve done nothing to betray my country.”

“Of course you have. All of you Jews have.”

“Why, sir, should I have to apologise for being born a Jew?”

“Jakob,” Krieger said, with a slightly kinder tone to his voice, “I’m not the kind of man that is without mercy. I know you didn’t ask to be born, much less to be born a Jew. If you apologise and renounce the Jewish faith, I will grant you mercy. I will spare you from this fate.”

Krieger gestured to the room to punctuate his point. “Do you accept?” he asked Jakob for the final time.

“No,” Jakob told him. “I can’t renounce my faith. Even if I did, you’d probably just kill me yourself.”

“When I make promises, I keep them. Besides, the Führer himself has even pardoned Jews from their crimes. I have no doubt I could do the same in this situation.”

“Still, sir, my answer is no.”

“So be it then,” Krieger said, smacking his thighs as he stood up. “But I do have some good news for you before I go.”

Krieger walked over to Jakob, and placed his hands on Jakob’s temples.

“And what is that good news?” Jakob asked, the fear back in his voice.

“I looked at your file, and you were scheduled for execution next week. My good news, Jakob, is that you won’t be executed next week.”

“Really?” Jakob asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Really,” Krieger replied. “You’re going to be executed today.”

“Wha-” Jakob said.

But before Jakob could finish his very simple sentence, Krieger pushed his hands inwards, and brought them together, all with extreme ease.

Jakob’s head exploded with force; sending his blood, brains, and small bits of his skull flying all over the room, although most of it got on Krieger.

“HERR COLONEL!!!” Hoess cried out in horror. “You can’t do something like that in an office! In my office!”

Krieger turned around and smiled at Hoess. His entire face was covered in whatever bodily fluids were swimming around in Jakob’s skull at the time. The blood dripped off his nose and his chin, and oozed on to the floor. Although he tried to wipe it off his face with his arm, it only served to smear it all onto his uniform.

“You don’t understand our relationship, Herr Rudolf, and you forget who I am,” Krieger said matter-of-factly. “I am Colonel Albrecht Krieger of the SS; proclaimed by Adolf Hitler himself to be the Captain of the Nazi forces; I am the symbol of the Fatherland’s superiority over those filthy Jews. I can do whatever I would like to do.”

With that, Krieger walked out of the room, and slammed the door behind him, leaving Hoess to wonder what to do with the mess.


	2. Recruiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to Albrecht Krieger, the Allied Forces begin recruiting the Mystery Men to their cause.

Central City, USA

3rd September, 1944

1922 hours

A week later, on the other side of the world, a car zoomed down the busy streets of Central City far faster than what was generally allowed. It didn’t take long for a police car to get involved, turning the situation into a high-speed chase on the darkening city streets.

Two people sat inside the car, both wearing black ski masks. In the car’s back seat sat several bags of cash, which the men had clearly just stolen. The passenger had a gun in his hand, and seemed terrified of it.

“You said we wouldn’t have to use these,” the passenger said, his voice quivering with the familiar mixture of fear and panic.

“That was before you decided to trip the alarm,” the driver responded angrily. “Now take the shots.”

“I won’t be able to hit them,” the passenger contested.

“I don’t care," the driver said firmly. “It’s not that difficult to look out of a window and press a trigger.”

The passenger anxiously rubbed his face and then stuck his head out of the window, looking back at the cop car behind them.

“Take the goddamn shot,” the driver ordered.

The passenger fired the gun, but was surprised at the result. The gun went off normally, but there was a strange flash of yellow electricity, and the men found that the bullet had been tossed back into the car before it had a chance to hit anything.

“What the hell?” the passenger said.

The driver knew what was happening. “Oh no,” was all he said.

The flash of electricity came again, and the men found that another person was running beside their car, despite the fact that it was moving too fast for any car to catch it.

This person was dressed strangely as well; he was wearing what appeared to be a bright red racer’s suit with a yellow lightning bolt painted across his chest. On the top of his head, he wore a First World War infantry helmet strapped around his chin, painted silver and adorned with what appeared to be tiny golden wings. Behind him there was a trail of yellow lightning that constantly sparked, similar in colour to what was shown on his chest.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” this person said. “Why don’t you pull over and we can talk this over?”

The driver, a little scared if not confused, pressed the brakes as hard as he could, stopping the car immediately and causing a loud screeching noise. The speedster, however, kept running for just a few seconds, but he was still far away from the car when he finally came to a stop.

Despite this, the speedster ran back towards the car, which didn’t even take him a full second to do.

“You…” the driver started to say. “You’re that Flash guy, aren’t you?”

“Well,” the Flash responded, “that does make me sound like a bit of a creep, but yes, I am the Flash.”

Now that they had all stopped, the two robbers could see the Flash’s features better than before. His hair was a very light brown, almost approaching dirty blond, and was severely messy based on what they could see beneath the helmet.

As for his face, the Flash could only be described as handsome. He was clean-shaven, with the exception of a few stray hairs in only a few places. He had several dimples in his face, which one could assume were even more prominent when he was smiling.

Before long, the police car showed up, and the officer got out.

“Well, gentlemen,” the Flash said when he saw the officer show up. “It looks like I’ve got to go for now. Hopefully I’ll see you back on the streets leading better lives.”

With that, the Flash ran away, leaving only his electric trail, which vanished after no more than a second.

One-and-a-half hours later

On the other side of the city, Jay Garrick, an average chemist, sat at home listening to the radio.

A knock came at Jay’s door, and he turned around so fast that there was a momentary yellow glow in the air.

Jay walked over to the door and opened it. In the doorway stood two men in official-looking beige suits. The taller man was clean-shaven, while the other, slightly shorter one had a full beard.

“Good evening, Mr. Garrick,” the clean-shaven man said.

“Can I help you?” Jay asked politely.

“You can,” the bearded man told him. “We’re with the United States military…”

Jay’s demeanour changed entirely. “Oh,” he said to himself. “I guess you’re here to recruit me, then.”

“In a way,” the bearded man told him. “We’re not here for Jay Garrick.”

“I live alone,” Jay said, getting confused.

“We’re here for the Flash,” the clean-shaven man said bluntly.

Jay stood there, shocked. “How’d you figure it out?” he asked the men.

“You’re going to have to ask our superiors about that. We were just told to come here and give you this.”

The clean-shaven man handed Jay a file, and Jay took it and opened it up. Inside it was only a single piece of paper.

Dear Mr. Garrick,

You may or may not be aware of the desperate situation in Europe. Our men are hard-pressed against a new kind of “super-man” that Germany has produced. As such, the Allied powers have decided to conscript the so-called “Mystery Men” to help the war effort. You have been selected to join this exclusive society.

Sincerely,

Franklin D. Roosevelt

Jay closed the file and looked at the men.

“Well,” he said. “It’s not what I had in mind when I got these powers, but, I’d be proud to serve my country.”

Washington D.C, USA

5th September, 1944

1655 hours

On the other side of the world, a few days later, Jay Garrick touched down on the tarmac of Washington National Airport. The men that had recruited him had also brought with them a private plane, which they said would bring him to meet with the others they had recruited.

Jay exited the plane and stepped foot on to the tarmac. He had never flown by plane before, and was amazed by everything.

“Normally if I want to go across the country, I’ll just go for a run,” Jay said to one of people getting off the plane with him, trying to make small talk. The man didn’t say anything back to him; clearly he was too into his own business for conversation. Jay understood the signal and started to go to the people unloading the plane to see if he could get his luggage.

“They’ll bring your luggage to you at the hotel,” one of the recruiting men told him.

Jay looked up at him, not used to being waited on even like this. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” the man replied. “That’s how it works.”

“Great, could you at least hand me the directions to the hotel?”

“Sure,” the man told Jay as he handed him a piece of paper.

Jay read the piece of paper, thanked him, and then ran off at super speed.

The man sighed to himself, and continued with his business.


End file.
